


Intimacy with the Work

by rosalindscotch



Category: Downton Abbey, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1910s, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosalindscotch/pseuds/rosalindscotch
Summary: 1916. Arthur's returned to Downton on leave from WWI, and Merlin can't take his eyes off him.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 87





	Intimacy with the Work

**Author's Note:**

> They say "be the change you wish to see in the world," and what I wish to see is more Downton Abbey Merthur AUs, so I did the damn thing. If you're not a Downton fan all you need to know is I imagine Arthur as an extended member of the noble family the show centers around. He frequently visits the Abbey and met footman!Merlin the summer before WWI, wherein forbidden romance ensued. This is their romance 2 years in in the midst of war, so have some romance and angst and enjoy!

“Everything in order?” Arthur asked slowly, observing Merlin’s hands as they tracked down the front of his dinner jacket and smoothed out nonexistent creases. 

“Mmhmm,” Merlin replied, absentminded and clearly not paying Arthur a lick of attention. _That won’t do_ , Arthur thought.

“What?” Arthur said more insistently, smirking and looking up at Merlin through his lashes. This was the third time tonight Merlin had unnecessarily smoothed his hands down from his shoulders to his lapels, and while he wasn’t complaining, it was clear his valet’s head was occupied elsewhere.

“What? Oh, nothing,” Merlin said, seeming to come back to himself all at once. He turned hurriedly away, and Arthur grinned ever wider behind his back. 

“Come now, it was _something_ ,” Arthur teased. “You looked like you wanted to say something, so what was it?” He thought he knew already, but there was nothing quite as fun as making Merlin admit these sorts of things, in full detail if he had it his way. 

Merlin didn’t turn from the bureau, where he was probably needlessly rearranging something else to keep his face hidden. “It’s nothing, really. If I said it, it’d make your ego balloon to the size of a house, and then where would we be?” 

“Then,” Arthur said lightly, coming up behind him, “I would just have you take me down a few pegs, get my feet back on the ground. It is what you do best, isn’t it?” He slowly slid his hands around Merlin’s waist, moving ever closer to fit his chest against Merlin’s back. Arthur could feel him exhale somewhat shakily, and it never failed to thrill him that he wasn’t alone in this, that Merlin too seemed to still feel the lingering nerves that had followed them since they’d started this. 

“Fine,” Merlin finally replied, quiet but definitive. He turned in Arthur’s hold to rest his back on the bureau, looking Arthur square in the face. “I just wanted to say you look,” he faltered a moment, looking Arthur over again carefully as he’d been doing all evening, and finally bringing his hands back up to rest on his chest. “You look very handsome, is all.”

Arthur laughed, and Merlin looked down, slightly bashful but with a small grin making its way across his face. “That’s all, is it?” he said, his tone low and (hopefully) sultry, circling his hands further around Merlin’s waist to hold him firmly. “Well that is a very kind pronouncement, Merlin. Whatever have I done to warrant that?” 

“Shut up,” he retorted, not bothering to hide his grin now. “You know what you look like.” 

_Oh, this is going to be good fun,_ Arthur thought. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he said, playing dumb and cocking his head slightly to the side. “You see, my manservant was somewhat...preoccupied tonight, what with how much time he spent running his hands all over me, and he hasn’t given me the slightest chance to look in a mirror. I haven’t the faintest idea how I look at all. I could have soot smeared all over my face for all I know.” 

“Which would be an improvement, surely,” Merlin added.

“Hang on! Did you not just get done telling me how handsome I was!” Arthur said, indignant but laughing still. 

Merlin laughed along, leaning close to whisper, in a mock-conspiratorial tone, “This is me taking you down a few pegs, m’lord.” 

“Well as I was saying,” Arthur continued. “My valet was obviously more focused on admiring my good looks tonight than making sure I was aware of them, so you’ll have to forgive me for being curious. It wouldn’t usually matter to me much either, but mirrors are rather hard to come by in the trenches, so it has been a moment since I’ve had the chance to admire myself.”

He had meant to keep his tone light, but clearly even this brief mention of the war he’d returned from was enough to make Merlin’s teasing grin dim slightly. There was an awkward beat of silence, and then Merlin admitted quietly, “I hate the thought of you there.” He refused to meet Arthur’s eyes as he twined their fingers together. “It’s only when I’m not busy worrying myself sick over you that I find time to miss you, it’s a wonder I can do anything else.” 

Arthur squeezed their joined fingers; he hadn’t meant to tear at their peaceful little cocoon, and especially hadn’t meant to make Merlin fret when Arthur was alive and well under his hands.

“I know, my love,” Arthur said, knowing there was nothing he could say that would truly make any of this better. They had learned that together since the war had begun, and long since stopped offering each other empty words and platitudes to make up for it. “We’ll just have to make up for lost time then, yeah?” He squeezed at their hands again and Merlin met his eyes again, Arthur offering him a tentative smile. Merlin smiled back and nodded, and Arthur’s grin grew. 

He crowded in close to Merlin’s ear, noting how his eyes fluttered closed and his breath came in short. He breathed, “Tell me then, what you think of me, and maybe I will reward you for your service.” Arthur made sure to linger, making Merlin second-guess his intentions; whether he’d withdraw or venture closer, pressing gentle kisses along Merlin’s jaw as he went. He breathed out slowly against his neck, and at last pulled back, delighted at Merlin’s still closed eyes and shallow breaths.

Arthur couldn’t help himself with things like this. Merlin was admittedly poor at being his personal valet, was so even before they began their affair, but he’d been in service long enough that by the time Arthur met him, he comported himself fairly well around everyone else. What Arthur had done to deserve being the only inhabitant of the Abbey to whom Merlin was insolent he didn’t know, but as such, Arthur jealously guarded these moments between them. Merlin’s expression was priceless every time the blank face of the footman dropped like a stone the moment they were sequestered behind Arthur’s locked door, and even more so when Arthur gathered him close. 

He’d taken an art history course his first year of university on the advice of a well-meaning advisor, who had encouraged Arthur to “broaden his horizons” and try something outside of his law courses. While admittedly not much from the course had stayed with him, he remembered learning about impressionism, and specifically a painting his professor had used to explain the technique of pointillism. The closer the viewer physically is to the scene, he had explained about this painting, the more defined each infinitesimal detail becomes, until the faces of the women or the shadowed men sitting in the grass in their top hats and canes become a mass of like colors. His professor had remarked that by stepping closer and observing the tiny parts that made up the whole of what was a large work was a form of intimacy with the art itself, and Arthur remembered he had barely repressed a deep sigh at the utter pretension and waste of his time the course was. 

Maybe he was just more suited to this kind of art, he thought, studying Merlin’s twitching pink mouth and his dark lashes. The kind of art that was Merlin’s face when he specifically poked and prodded enough so that Merlin would eventually make expressions only he got to see. They both had to be so guarded all the time, both in regard to themselves and what lay between them, that it provoked a deep satisfaction in Arthur when he could provoke Merlin in turn, making him smile as he wore his pleasure on the surface for once. Intimacy with the work of art, indeed. 

_I’m an artist_ , he thought, and couldn’t help but feel smug. _Merlin just doesn’t appreciate my genius._

All at once, Merlin released a long breath and shaky laugh. “I don’t even have to look at you to see how smug you are right now,” he said, his voice gratifyingly rough, and Arthur crowed internally with victory. He opened one eye to scan over Arthur again, then decided it was safe to continue. He blinked, and this time when he met Arthur’s eyes again, there seemed to be a newfound determination there, a matching surety that he would be joining Arthur in this game. 

“Fine,” he said decisively, and fixed Arthur with a look that sent a thrill down his spine. Merlin looked downright _lascivious._ “To start with, I’m rather proud of the shape I got your hair in earlier. It sits like Charles Bryant’s does. Very dashing, I’m not afraid to admit.” 

“And how do you know how Charles Bryant does his hair?” Arthur interjected, just to annoy him that much more. 

“I saw that picture he was in with his wife and watched carefully, now shut up,” Merlin replied, barely paying Arthur any mind.

“There’s this new suit as well,” he continued, his hands settling on the tops of his shoulders and tracing the path of his comments. “When I picked up this dinner jacket the other morning it didn’t strike me as any different to your others, but this one…” He trailed off, his hands still sweeping the breadth of Arthur’s shoulders, and Arthur felt his breath catch, transfixed by Merlin’s words. “It accentuates your arms and shoulders, they look broad enough for me to sit on if I so pleased.” Arthur’s stomach did a veritable flip at that, his mind suddenly flooded with the image of his shoulders’ proximity to Merlin’s thighs. He felt the temperature of the room noticeably increase, and refused to take his eyes off Merlin.

“Not to mention how deep the black is, next to your hair and your eyes,” Merlin said, clearly unaware of how Arthur’s brain was slowly being roasted like a Christmas goose. His focused gaze met Arthur’s, rooting him solidly to the spot. A steam engine could have barreled through the room, and Arthur was sure the focus of Merlin’s attentions would have kept him upright and unmoving. He tracked his hands back down the front of Arthur’s chest, the same way he’d done three times before already, but lingeringly this time, making sure Arthur felt his fingertips catch in the fabric of his lapels. Merlin kept talking, his voice somehow pitched even lower. “It’s been nearly a year since I saw you in tails like this. I never thought I’d miss this on you, it’s as if I’m noticing parts of you that I’ve never seen before.” 

“Like what?” Arthur asked breathlessly. 

“It makes your chest look strong, for one,” he breathed, and Arthur swayed closer into his orbit. “So polished and unruffled, nothing out of place, and just. Just _handsome_. I may have said you look handsome in that uniform of yours but if I never saw the damned thing again I’d be glad, because like this you’re perfectly handsome.” His voice had grown fierce at the mention of Arthur’s uniform, a forest green set that remained tucked in the furthest corner of his wardrobe whenever he returned to Merlin. They both wanted it out of sight when they reunited, although he wasn’t sure he held the vitriol for it that Merlin did, remembering the grim set of his face as he’d hurried Arthur out of it that first night of his leave. 

“You, looking like this,” Merlin said, his voice breaking, “I can almost pretend you don’t have to leave me again, that you’ll just go down to another stupid meal and come back afterwards and we’ll have a whole summer of that again, of you looking handsome and sneaking me volumes of Forster after dinner.” 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, both heartbroken at his words and overcome at the intimacy of his voice, the dim yellowed lamps that lit the room and the buzzing in his ears at their closeness. Merlin didn’t seem to hear him, however, as he suddenly ducked his face into the space under the hinge of Arthur’s jaw, almost in a mimic of their earlier, reversed position and _refused to stop talking_. 

“Even here too, hidden away, you’re handsome,” he whispered, audibly inhaling Arthur’s French cologne and threatening the strength of Arthur’s knees. “Almost more so than the other parts, do you know why?”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur repeated, but was again ignored. 

“Because the other places, your hair, your shoulders, anyone can see that. To see your handsomeness _here_ ,” and at that he placed a proprietary hand on the opposite side of Arthur’s neck from where his head was dipped, “is my pleasure alone. Only I get to be as close to you as this, both as a valet and as more, and simply no one else can ever appreciate this kind of handsomeness save for myself. You are more than handsome here, Arthur. Here you are gorgeous, and more than that, my darling, you are _mine_.” 

Arthur couldn’t stand it any longer, but luckily Merlin couldn’t seem to either, and his third attempt at pleading Merlin’s name was swallowed as he was finally, soundly kissed. He felt the hand on his neck smooth itself into his hair, and he pressed Merlin flush against his chest as he moved him back bodily against the bureau. His earlier words seemed as much a lead-up for him as they had been for Arthur, his warm mouth opening wetly under Arthur’s to coax his tongue inside. Merlin gave a barely audible moan, low and growling from the back of his throat, and Arthur clutched at him, taking his turn at manhandling Merlin as he swept his hands up the expanse of his back. 

Kissing Merlin was sublime, and yet another thing Arthur doubted he would ever tire of; sometimes all Merlin wanted was this, their lips sealed together and the chance to be close enough to press tightly against one another. Both Merlin’s hands were up around his shoulders now, still smoothing over and clenching at them as he nipped at Arthur’s lower lip, something Arthur knew he wanted reciprocated. He relished the little gasp Merlin gave as he did just that, almost as much as he enjoyed the actual feel of Merlin’s round lip under the gentle tug of his teeth and swipe of his tongue. 

He’d just decided to gain a little control of the situation, planting firm kisses along Merlin’s jaw and down his neck and beginning to sneak one of his hands to the front of Merlin’s waistband, when a rapid knock sounded at the door like a gunshot. They jumped apart, Merlin rattling the bureau behind him and Arthur hurriedly straightening his dinner jacket. “Lord Pendragon,” a voice called, and Arthur recognized his uncle’s valet Thomas on the other side of the door. “His Lordship wanted me to let you know they’ll be going through to the dining room soon.” 

Arthur swore under his breath as Merlin hurriedly whispered, “Go. Blame it on me, say I was late getting to you.” 

Arthur gave one last look towards Merlin before pulling open the door, revealing Thomas, serious and straight backed on the other side. “Yes, thank you,” he said, hoping his voice sounded casual. “Merlin ran late so we were just finishing. I will be down shortly.” 

“Very good m’lord,” Thomas replied, his eyes flicking to Merlin before turning to walk back down the hall, Arthur closing the door behind him. 

Arthur turned to find Merlin before him once again. He paused momentarily before moving to smooth Arthur’s hair back into place with a professional air. It was all Arthur could do to restrain himself from swearing again, this time at full volume. 

Merlin cleared his throat, their new closeness a pale imitation of what had been there before. “When do you go back?” he asked, and immediately seemed to regret his words as he grimaced and lowered his hand. The moment was well and truly over, and there was no getting it back.

“Did I look a right mess speaking to him just now?” Arthur asked, sidestepping the question entirely. He was sure he sounded shaken but couldn’t find it in himself to care, desperate to somehow fill up the yawning space that had appeared between them without actually acknowledging it. 

They had been caught out like this three times before, and each one resounded in Arthur’s memory, as he was sure they did for Merlin. Their time together, however dear and sweet, always felt so unbearably fragile to Arthur, protected by nothing besides a religiously locked door and their fast reflexes. It made the guilt inside him well up unbearably every time, the fact that it was his family’s house that made them risk everything for these stolen moments. It made him bitter as much as it infuriated him, and if he could’ve gotten away with it, Arthur would’ve said _sod it_ , _forget dinner_ , and stayed with Merlin the rest of the night to somehow repair the fractures of the evening.

“You were fine,” Merlin reassured him, clearly just as eager as Arthur to escape the tension that Thomas had delivered to their door. “Don’t feel sorry,” he added firmly, somehow reading Arthur’s mind. “We’re alright for tonight, and anyways you know that even if Thomas knew he wouldn’t tell. If nothing else I know he has standards about that.” 

“Doesn’t stop me from still feeling…” Arthur trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut and gently resting his forehead against Merlin’s. He felt Merlin’s answering sigh, and once again the now-comforting smoothing of his shoulders and upper arms. 

“I know,” Merlin said quietly. “It’ll be different one day, promise.” 

Arthur opened his eyes, a small smile forming despite himself. “Is that right?” 

“Oh yeah, you better place your bets now, Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin said, and it was clear to Arthur that while he teased, he was at the same time deadly serious. He lifted his head, and again fixed Arthur with one of his blazing blue stares. “Because I’d wager all I have that one day, we will be happy, truly happy. And not only that, but happy _together_.” 

Arthur couldn’t help but kiss him then, pressing both his regret and his love solidly against Merlin’s lips, and smiling slightly as Merlin answered in kind. They broke apart slowly, and Merlin let his hands drop. “Off to dinner with you then,” he said, smiling softly and taking a small step back. “I’ll be here when you get back.” 

“I know,” Arthur said simply, drinking in the sight of this man, this man he loved so fiercely and so privately, before wrenching himself away and shutting the door firmly behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I like adding extra bits about my writing so here's that for people who are interested:  
> 1\. The painting Arthur refers to is "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" by Georges Seurat, which you might recognize if you've ever seen "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" or visited the Art Institute of Chicago  
> 2\. I specified Arthur as wearing French cologne because I've been listening to Blue by Joni Mitchell on a loop while writing this and in "Carey" there's a line that goes "And I miss my clean white linen and my fancy French cologne," so that's for Arthur  
> 3\. In my wider imagining of this universe I picture Arthur and Merlin largely bonding over Oscar Wilde, but E.M. Forster has this great quote where he talks about being with his lover and seeing "occasional glimpses of the happiness of 1000s of other whose names I shall never hear, and know that there is a great unrecorded history," so with that in mind I thought Arthur and Merlin would enjoy him as well  
> 4\. Another note I wanted to put at the beginning but didn't wanna spoil anything: if you don't watch Downton, Thomas is a real character in the show who is canonically gay, so my thought is that even though he's often cast as the villain of the show, if he found out Merlin and Arthur were also gay he would most likely keep their secret, which is what Merlin means at the end  
> 5\. Charles Bryant is a real theater and silent film actor from the early 20th century! He was rumored to be gay and famously fake-married bisexual icon Alla Nazimova, so in addition to him having nice hair in his Wikipedia picture, I thought easter-egging more real gays in here might be fun  
> 6\. More of a general note, and in case you couldn't tell, this is just a long form appreciation post for how handsome I think Bradley James is so yeah. No shame there
> 
> I'm @thatkindamusicjustsoothesthesoul on tumblr if you'd like to say hello! Hope y'all enjoyed :)


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